


Diplomatic Endeavors

by zarabithia



Category: DCU, DCU - Comicsverse, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: DCnU, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The humans are likely taking care of the conversations. Gaila and Kori can attend to much more pleasant diplomatic endeavors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diplomatic Endeavors

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the porn battle prompts: _freedom, redheads, color_

They are not where they are supposed to be, and Kori's companions are currently quite stressed about that fact. Jason and Roy are not getting along as well with the members of this vessel as Kori is. This is because of Jason's pride and anger and because of the wall that Roy always chooses to erect to keep others out when he so desperately wants nothing more than to invite everyone in.

It makes no sense to Kori. She would far rather invite them in. But many on Earth do not understand this simple, simple truth, and Kori cannot blame Roy for being average in that capacity when he excels her expectations in so many others. 

Kori's current companion does not come from Earth. 

Gaila's spaceship is full of many species from multiple planets, some that Kori can place, while others are still unknown to her. But the biggest majority of Gaila's teammates hail from Earth, and so, Kori believes that Gaila must know something about the frustration Kori experiences on a daily basis. 

But the conversation to confirm this belief must wait. Because neither Kori nor Gaila are human, they do not need to complicate their lives by refusing to ask for what they want. Kori asks and Gaila instructs; pleasures are met and positions are changed. Red hair splays across the pillow and tightens in fists that are not plunged deeply within one another. Gaila's arm twists and Kori tests the durability of twenty-third century headboards; they prove to be stronger than the ones Kori has left behind. In fact, the cracks are barely noticeable and Kori is impressed. 

"I'll fix it later," Gaila says, and the joy in her voice reminds Kori of the sunshine of a beach on a planet she has long since forgotten the name of. 

But Gaila's smile is as bright as any sun on any planet, and Kori doesn't need to worry about beaches on planets of her past. Instead, she wants to focus on the flawless green canvas of Gaila's skin in her present. There are not nearly enough people with green skin in the time that Kori has left behind, at least not in the section of space that Kori had been calling home. 

It is a shame, really.

Gaila is not shy about expressing her pleasure, and the steady, slow hum of approval grows as Kori's mouth trails from the hard angles of her collarbone to the soft slope of her breasts. By the time that Kori reaches the pleasing roundness of Gaila's hips, the hum has grown to a light moan, and Kori has every intention of shoving her face between Gaila's thighs and licking her throughly enough to make that moan shift into a proper scream and back again into the kind of barely audible hums that tell Kori she has made her partner happy.

But a small scar on Gaila's right hip makes Kori pause, and makes her mouth stop in its journey. 

"Your medicine has advanced beyond this," Kori tells her, because she has seen their doctors heal with devices that would make the magicians in the Justice League quiver in jealousy. 

Gaila sits up only marginally. She shrugs one shoulder while supporting her weight with the other. "I was a prisoner once." 

"As was I," Kori tells her, because the confession has earned it. 

"When I escaped," Gaila says as Kori's lips graze over the scar, "it got messy. The Federation doctors patched me up. But I wanted ... something to remind me of the life I had before. Something to remind me of what being captive was like, in case I forgot when I was free." 

"But you would never forget." Kori rests her chin on Gaila's hip and looks up at her. "Because your companions will never allow that." 

On Earth, pity for Kori's history is in no short supply among those who know it. Nor is there a limited amount of those who would "save" her by helping her "adjust" to the customs that she has no need to fit into. There is also no short supply of those who seek to cover her up in clothes that Kori will never want in an attempt to keep her from being used - as though Kori will ever forget what being used feels like, and as though their own efforts to mold her into someone she is not is any different than prisons she has known before. 

The twenty-third century has fantastic beds and green ale to rival any that Kori has known, but it has simply not changed _that_ much. 

"They are kind," Gaila says, and she reaches down to brush Kori's hair away from her face. "And they mean well. If they can't understand, then I am glad." 

Because it means they have not faced the same treatment. "As am I. But sometimes, punching them would make me more glad." 

The laughter comes first, then the endearment. "My little Klingon warrior." 

Kori doesn't know what a Klingon is, but the woman in her bed acknowledges her as a warrior. That alone is reason to return to her original goal of making Gaila scream beneath her. 

Besides, the humans are likely taking care of the conversations. Gaila and Kori can attend to much more pleasant diplomatic endeavors.


End file.
